


reprieve

by lesbianshinobu



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes
Genre: Other, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25991899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianshinobu/pseuds/lesbianshinobu
Summary: “You know,” you begin carefully, “maybe we should join them too. As in, on the dance floor.”It takes a moment for the words to sink in. Then he’s stammering, the nape of his neck warm. “Join them on the...I-I can’t. It’s not that Idon’twant to, o-ordo, that is to say— I don’t— I’m not a good dancer.”You smile reassuringly. “That’s okay. I mean, look! Everyone's just dancing to the music!”That’s the problem,he wants to say. He doesn’t have an aptitude for dance, but the waltz has steps he can follow. Here, in this tiny village so far from the castle, there is no structure to the dancing, villagers and heroes alike making it up as they go. Alfonse knows his two left feet will only embarrass him if he tries to join in.Alfonse is not one for feasts and dances, but just like with everything else, you show up and change that.
Relationships: Alfonse (Fire Emblem)/Reader, Alfonse/Summoner | Eclat | Kiran
Comments: 2
Kudos: 76





	reprieve

**Author's Note:**

> cross-posted from tumblr. follow me @wlwbyleth and idk chat with me about fe or request something 🥴

Another day, another village saved.

It had been evening when the battle with the forces of Múspell came to an end, the last of the opposing army retreating. As thanks, the villagers opened their only inn to the Order of Heroes, inviting them to stay the night and recuperate, before resuming travel early next morning. They accepted, seeing as most of their forces were exhausted from the day’s events. Pitching tents, tending fires, and eating rations hadn’t sounded appealing to any of them in the slightest.

Alfonse was thankful for their hospitality, not to mention eager to get some much needed rest. Only to learn that the villagers were so moved over being saved by the Order, they were throwing a feast in their honour. Apparently, they refused to take no for an answer. (Though he doubts his sister put up much of a fight when approached by the village elders.)

Which is how the Prince of Askr finds himself nursing a mug of ale, watching the festivities and wondering when would be the appropriate time to retire for the night.

The villagers had done a fine job, considering how impromptu the feast was. A bonfire roared in the center of the village, bathing the square in hues of red, orange, and gold. Tables were erected nearby, full to the brim with various foods. One of the villagers had brought out their lyre and was playing a jovial ditty, while children and adults alike danced merrily to the tune.

Sharena is among the revelers, having shed her armour for one of the dresses she’d packed for the journey. (Alfonse had raised a brow at her luggage and told her such finery wasn’t necessary, not when they were setting out to defeat Surtr and his forces. It seemed he was the wrong one.) Her hair is twisted into a braid and decorated with flowers by the young children who had taken to following after her like ducklings would their mother. One of her little admirers is in her arms, head thrown back in laughter as they are swung about.

He spots other familiar faces nearby as well. Commander Anna is engaged in friendly conversation with one of the villagers, a woman. Camilla of the World of Conquest is sampling some of the desserts, licking the sugar that dusts her fingers with relish. Frederick of the World of Awakening appears as uncomfortable as Alfonse feels, standing on the fringes with his hands clasped behind his back and still in full armour.

The only one missing is you, the Summoner. It has been some time since he had spoken to you last. He’d caught glimpses of you at the start of the feast, but he had been too busy conversing with the village elders alongside Sharena to approach you. Though he glances around, he doesn’t see hide nor hair of you.

Had you decided to cut the night short?

Suddenly, sticking around sounds even less appealing. He’s done his rounds, chatted with villagers and fellow Order members, and thanked the right people. Surely his duties are complete. He thinks wistfully of his room at the inn. It isn’t as spacious as the one back home, but a bed is a bed, and he’s tired.

Just as he considers retreating, not unlike the Múspell forces had, he feels a presence at his side. “Well, if it isn’t the life of the party.” He glances over to see your smiling visage.

You’re out of your summoner’s cloak, wearing a fetching tunic and pair of pants. A flower is tucked behind your ear; perhaps the children had gotten to you as well. Your skin glows in the firelight, which is reflected in your eyes.

Alfonse finds his gaze lingering on your form for longer than appropriate. He clears his throat, turning away. “I would hardly refer to myself as such.”

“I know, I was joking.” You sound amused. There’s a pause, wherein Alfonse curses himself for not realizing your words had been in jest, before you capture his attention again. “That title would go to your sister, I think.”

That piques his curiosity. He seeks out Sharena for a second time. She’s still dancing with the children. His sister is twirling one of the girls, a beaming grin on her features. It can’t be clearer how much she’s enjoying herself.

He smiles at the sight. “Sharena always has been the life of any party. She was over the moon every time we held balls at the castle.”

You knock your shoulder against his. The brief contact has his fingers tightening around the mug he’s holding, a reflexive reaction he can’t control. “Let me guess. You didn’t have much fun at those balls?”

His first instinct is to laugh awkwardly, write your words off as ribbing and leave it at that. But when he looks to you, your head is cocked to the side, your gaze trained on him. You seem to be awaiting a response. As if you genuinely want to know what he was like back when the kingdom of Askr was at peace, and not in the midst of war.

Alfonse gives the diplomatic answer. “I understood their function. It is important for royalty to host events at the castle. They present an opportunity for us to interact with our people and learn how they are faring.” At your expectant look, he admits, “...I didn’t particularly enjoy them, no. Actually, I was often scolded by my mother for leaving early.”

You chuckle at that, but not cruelly. “Huh. I can’t picture you getting in trouble with your mom. But hiding in a corner, so you don’t have to talk to other people?” You look at him pointedly, a teasing slant to your mouth. “That’s easier to imagine.”

Does he really come off that way? He frowns. That isn’t how he wants to appear to anyone, you especially. The thought is a bit disconcerting, because he’s not sure when your opinion of him started to carry such weight.

“It isn’t that I _didn’t_ want to talk to anyone at those events.” He stares out at the crowd, so that he doesn’t have to meet your gaze. “The nobles who attended just confounded me. So many of them are duplicitous. They rarely say what they mean, and often attempt to befriend me for my title. And then there were the rules and conventions that had to be adhered. Sharena was capable of handling all that while still enjoying herself, but it was...difficult for me.”

(It didn’t help that his behaviour usually disappointed his parents, whether it be because he inadvertently snubbed a noble or left before it was appropriate. Now isn’t the time to think of his many failures as a prince, however.)

“Oh.” The quiet sound compels him to look at you. Your merriment from before is gone, your brows furrowed and the corners of your mouth tugged down. “I’m sorry, Alfonse. I didn’t mean to remind you about all that, especially when this is supposed to be a happy occasion.”

He blinks, taken aback, before shaking his head. “N-No, don’t be sorry. You didn’t say anything untoward. If anything, _I_ should apologize for ruining the mood.”

Now you’re the one shaking your head. “You don’t need to apologize for speaking your mind! I asked you about it in the first place, anyway.”

Suddenly, he can’t help smile at the situation. The two of you are members of the Order of Heroes, battle-hardened and assured on the battlefield...but tripping over each other during a simple conversation at a party. “Then I guess neither of us need to be sorry.”

Maybe you realize the absurdity too, because you huff out a laugh. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Conversation comes easier then, the topic at hand turning to how you both spent your time at the feast thus far. You wax poetic about some of the pastries you ate, while he mentions the praises the village elders had for the heroes. There are brief silences in between, but it’s comfortable and not at all stifling.

During one such lull, Alfonse notices that Anna is no longer near the food tables. She’s being led by the hand to the makeshift dance floor, still in the company of the woman she’d been speaking with earlier. She’s smiling from ear to ear, with a lightness to her shoulders that’s rarely present when they travel.

He points the new development out. “Looks like the Commander and her new friend are planning to join Sharena.”

Your brows raise in mild interest, and you glance around for a moment before spotting the women in question. By now they have begun to dance, Anna’s arms twined around her companion’s waist. Your mouth quirks into a grin. “Oh, I doubt either of them are having _friendly_ thoughts right now.”

He frowns. “What do you mean? They look friendly from where I’m standing.”

“Well, yeah, but...” You trail off, taking in his confusion. Then your eyes widen. “Uhhh...You know what? Nevermind! You’re totally right, they are.”

Alfonse gets the feeling that he’s missing something. He decides not to press you on it. Instead, he returns to watching the proceedings. He’s so engrossed in wondering how Sharena has yet to tire herself out, he doesn’t notice you glance from the dance floor to him, your teeth digging into your lip in contemplation.

“You know,” you begin carefully, “maybe we should join them too. As in, on the dance floor.”

It takes a moment for the words to sink in. Then he’s stammering, the nape of his neck warm. “Join them on the...I-I can’t. It’s not that I don’t _want_ to, o-or _do_ , that is to say— I don’t— I’m not a good dancer.”

You smile reassuringly. “That’s okay. I mean, look! Everyone's just dancing to the music!”

 _That’s the problem_ , he wants to say. He doesn’t have an aptitude for dance, but the waltz has steps he can follow. Here, in this tiny village so far from the castle, there is no structure to the dancing, villagers and heroes alike making it up as they go. Alfonse knows his two left feet will only embarrass him if he tries to join in.

His trepidation must show, because your smile disappears, a look of worry replacing it. “If you’re not comfortable, though, I’m not gonna force you. We can just stay here.”

He wants nothing more than to agree. But then you glance over at the dancing crowd, looking wistful, and he finds himself saying, “Well. Maybe just for a little bit.”

You turn back to him. “What? Are you sure? You don’t have to say so because of me. Really!”

His flush is spreading to his cheeks, and his mind is conjuring up all the ways he’ll slip up, and he’s afraid of making a fool of himself in front of you. And yet he still sets his mug down at a nearby table, before holding out his hand towards you. “I insist.”

It’s worth the trouble when your face clears up, an excited smile playing at your lips as you take his hand. Your fingers are warm, and a comforting weight on his palm. As one, you both head to the dance floor.

Sharena is the first to notice. Her brows raise in surprise, before she’s grinning at Alfonse with a knowing look. He avoids her gaze, feeling his flush worsen, only to lock eyes with Anna. She waggles her brows. He narrows his eyes, feigning irritation, and turns away.

Then his eyes meet yours. It’s impossible to look away from the warmth he finds there.

You take a step closer, until your chests are nearly brushing. “Here,” you say, so softly he has to strain a little to hear you. “Just do what I do.”

The villager on the lyre is playing a softer song, not quite as fast-paced as the previous ones have been. You guide him into a dance that matches the tempo. He stumbles at first, but you’re patient, smiling encouragingly at him as you continue to lead without issue. Just as confidently as you do on the battlefield. The comparison helps ease some of his anxiety.

Alfonse can feel sweat gathering under the collar of his tunic, from the press of bodies around him, the crackling bonfire, and his nerves. He’s much too cognizant of all the places he’s touching you, and you him. He’s been in close proximity to you before, but never quite like this.

It’s terrifying. It’s maddening. It’s exhilarating.

After some time, you grin. “Look at that! You’re dancing.”

Fondness blooms within his chest at how pleased you are with his success. His lips spread into a smile before he even realizes it. “So I am.”

Eventually, the song ends, only for another to start. Now is the perfect time to pull away, to retire for the night, just as he wanted to earlier. Yet Alfonse continues to follow your lead, despite his two left feet and nervous disposition.

 _We’re not friends with the Summoner, we’re allies_ , Alfonse had told his sister once. He’d meant it.

Now, he knows that’s not the case. That hasn’t been the case for a long time.

He doesn’t allow himself to think long about just what it is between the two of you. All he knows is that he wants to indulge in this feeling for as long as he possibly can.


End file.
